Never Shaken
by Ellie 5192
Summary: MAAN- Retold. A continuation of a scene in the Shakespeare Retold version of Much Ado About Nothing. Ben realises just how much he loves Beatrice, and is there for her when Hero is in the hospital. Beatrice realises that Ben's love is constant.


I was watching the Shakespeare Retold version of Much Ado About Nothing for about the 100th time, and I just had to write this. It's short and fairly unimportant, but the plot bunnies were going psycho- so here it is; my little filler. Ben/Bea, obviously. Set at and after the hospital scene with those two.

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"Hey, let me take you home"

She looked at him for a moment before answering.

"I'm sorry, Ben"

"What for?" he asked, thinking she was referring to his offer.

She sighed. "We had something to talk about didn't we?" she said, looking sad and somewhat guilty "And now it doesn't really seem like the right time"

He smiled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Both knew that there was much to be discussed regarding their relationship, and that everything needed to be on the table before anything could progress. But how could they possibly go home and have a nice long talk, given Hero, their beloved friend and co-worker, was in the hospital instead of on her honeymoon? How could they even think about resolving their issues, when they were so petty in comparison to Hero's? In a way they were both feeling guilty even thinking about themselves for a short moment at a time like this.

"It can wait" he said. He knew that the conversation was still pending, but that didn't matter. He would love her just as much then as he did now. He would wait for as long as it took, until she was ready. Right now, she needed him, not as a lover or as a sounding board- but instead as a pillar of strength. She just needed to know he wasn't going anywhere; that she could count on him being there tomorrow when her best friend went into surgery.

Beatrice gave him a small smile, seeing the remnants of his grin, knowing he wasn't going anywhere. If he was still willing to wait to sought out their issues, then so was she.

She stood up, letting his hand fall form hers. She could sense him behind her, only half a step away. They said goodnight to Pete and Leonard, promising to return in the morning.

As they moved through the hospital he reached for her hand, holding it tight and giving it a squeeze. They drove back to her house in his car, the trip silent, and the anger being replaced with sadness; the sadness with fatigue.

They reached her house, but she didn't notice until he had opened her car door. She took the hand that was offered, and they proceeded up the steps with their left hands embracing and his right hand on the small of her back. She unlocked the door and went inside.

It took Ben a moment to realise he had never been inside before. He'd been as far as her front door, but never had he seen the family photographs of brothers and nieces on the walls and mantle; the glass bowls and ornaments that decorated the surfaces or the Persian rug on the floor, by the couch that was both stylish and worn. There was a bookshelf in the corner, the titles too far away and the light too dim to make them out. He was sure they were all books by the likes of Dickens and Dostoyevsky; Margaret Atwood and Jane Austen. Perhaps even some unknown titles found in the sales bin of the bookshop. The romantic mixed in with the classic- the mundane obscured by the unforgettable. He smiled to himself, and continued through. Unlike most homes of a similar making, the staircase didn't start at the front door. Instead, you had to proceed half way through the house, past both the living and kitchen area, before you could proceed upstairs. Hearing her footsteps on the second floor, he continued down the hall, assuming she wouldn't mind. A quick glance into the kitchen on his way showed a single coffee mug upside-down on the sink, a small round table with some flowers and a fridge that sported only a calendar and some magnets.

He found her in her room, standing at the dresser pulling the clips out of her hair. She was already changed into track pants and a black singlet top, and just like at the hospital she looked dazed, almost as if the events of the day were still sinking in and being sorted in her mind. Leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, he watched her for a minute with the trace of a smile on his face. She really was beautiful, and he was amazed at himself for not really seeing it before.

She placed the last clip on the dresser and stood there, hand unmoving, gaze directed at the reflection, though he doubted she was seeing anything. It was then that Ben moved towards her. He gently took her shoulders and spun her so that she was facing him. His hands went to her hair, where he slowly ran his fingers through it in an effort to undo the curls caused by the hairspray and clips. She closed her eyes as a mix of exhaustion and contentment ran through her, making her suddenly aware of how damn tired she was after such a day. His hands stopped and came to rest on her shoulders. She leant into him and hugged him in an effort to say thank you. He did the same, telling her he would always be there if she needed.

Both of them stood like that for some time, until Bea pulled away with a small smile towards him.

"Thank you, Ben"

"For what?"

She shrugged. "Just being here for me" she scoffed at herself. "I'm sure I look a wreck"

He smiled. "I don't care"

And he didn't. Knowing he wasn't joking made her smile back.

She walked over to her bed and got under the covers, letting him pull them up for her. As he stood up and went to leave, her hand shot out and grabbed his. He stopped and turned and looked at her.

He knew, even before she asked, what she was going to say.

"Stay" she said, her eyes pleading and somewhat guarded as though she wanted nothing more but expected less.

"Stay with me"

Not needing another word he removed his jacket and shoes, placing them on chair in the corner. Then he climbed onto the bed behind her, the covers remaining between them, and placed his arm over her middle. She leant backwards into him; her fingers entwined with his, and she sighed. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, his lips lingering there. It wasn't that he could smell her (which he could), or that he could touch her. More than that, he was connected to her. They were one now, whether or not they had done the 'big talk'. She was asleep within moments, her hand loose in his, her breathing even and shallow. For a while he just let himself feel her. Their bodies were moulded into one another, their breath in perfect synchronisation.

He closed his eyes and before him he could see a book of Shakespeare sonnets. Ben smiled, and allowed the feeling of his arm rising and falling with her breath to lull him. He was asleep within moments himself, and he did not dream that night. He did not need to.

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken_

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come:_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved_

_R&R!_


End file.
